Waiting
I was a waiter, awaiting
my future life, on
her first holiday to Turkey
I met my second wife...
I was dark and deep
with mystery and she....I watched
the curve of her hips as she danced,
whilst I waited on her every word.
Our glances, like lazers
cut through the night and later
she held me in her arms,
whiter than the sand we lay upon,
and I cried – so recently widowed.
The guilt of such pleasure
so soon – as sweet as figs,
as potent as Raki.
She carried me away
From all that was familiar,
a soothing, healing journey
into hills and rain
that burned with my tears.
I carried my children
from their sunny clime,
we married and our lives
became entwined, full of hope
for better times, they
never arrived.
Impotent.. I cannot
take care of my children,
my wife. She has a son
who went astray
a real valleys boy, they say
he started young
small fights at first, small jobs,
small drugs, which grew bigger
and harder with age.
He sits in the middle, in between,
on the recently re-sprung settee,
breaking all the boundaries
of decency. His talk, so dirty...
calls me names, I'm no good.
Says I'm filthy, I don't wash,
he plays games... when
the social worker visits -
he talks tidy – they believe him.
I am so tired, working
all night in the factory,
returning to smoke filled gloom
scattered with disorder,
uncontrollable chaos,
a selection of narcotics spread out
across the coffee tables amongst
my children's homework.
I take them for a walk – to the lake
I take them to the clean air
and I listen to their strange accents,
whispering to each other.
Trying to hold my anger inside -
stop myself from exploding,
I throw glass bottles at the walls
late at night when I'm alone.
She begs...
“Don't mess this up now babes,
your visa's due this month.
They'll send you back they will
just need a good excuse!”
I try to grasp those moments on the beach,
to pull myself back from despair.... but
how can I accept her child, who changes
her shiny blue eyes to black -
who breaks her heart – from school
to prison in two short years.
Forgiveness is natural for a mother but
not for me, her husband who had
so many dreams of his own,
new shoots he planted in this
green, green garden of Eden....
and so I smoke and wait....
for things to change.
